


Ga(y)bles

by whatabadchoice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Best Friends, Drabble, First Kiss, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 02:04:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7201742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatabadchoice/pseuds/whatabadchoice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>1 Mississippi… 2 Mississippi… 3 Mississippi…</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dean’s little brother, Sam, taught him how to count like that. Dean isn’t stupid, he just got too excited the first couple of times. When his mom found him getting out of bed, she was pretty unhappy. Sam, though, was practical.</p><p>“I counted ‘til <em>thirty</em> this time before getting up so she wouldn’t hear! Mom is freaking magic, Sam,” Dean whispered in the dark after getting stuck with a week of dishes for sneaking out of bed, <em>again</em>.</p><p>“That wasn’t thirty seconds!” Sam responded, smug. “Are you even doing your Mississippis?”</p><p>“Of course I am!” Dean replied quickly. Even from across the room in his bed, Dean could feel Sam’s disbelief. “Fine. What’s a Mississippi?</p><p>Since then, Dean has gotten better. He doesn’t even wake Sam now, which makes the explaining that much easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ga(y)bles

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/castielnov4k/status/742702350343667713) tweet by @castielnov4k this morning. 
> 
> lol I am the worst

Dean shuts his eyes as his mom closes the door. 

“Goodnight boys,” he can hear her whisper from the doorframe just before the light from the hallway disappears entirely. 

He keeps them shut tight and counts.

_1 mississippi… 2 mississippi… 3 mississippi…_

Dean’s little brother, Sam, taught him how to count like that. Dean isn’t stupid, he just got too excited the first couple of times. When his mom found him getting out of bed, she was pretty unhappy. Sam, though, was practical.

“I counted ‘til _thirty_ this time before getting up so she wouldn’t hear! Mom is freaking magic, Sam,” Dean whispered in the dark after getting stuck with a week of dishes for sneaking out of bed, _again_.

“That wasn’t thirty seconds!” Sam responded, smug. “Are you even doing your mississippis?”

“Of course I am!” Dean replied quickly. Even from across the room in his bed, Dean could feel Sam’s disbelief. “Fine. What’s a mississippi, bitch?

Since then, Dean has gotten better. He doesn’t even wake Sam now, which makes the explaining that much easier. 

“How come I can’t go out on the roof with you?” Sam had whined when he figured out where Dean was going. 

“Because…” Dean stalled. “Because you’re not old enough!”

“Because you wanna be alone with your _boyfriend_ more like!”

Dean had blustered for a moment. Cas wasn’t… they weren’t… 

But actually...

“Yeah! We’ll be kissing and smooching and holding hands! Still wanna come Sammy?” Dean said, voice raising in excitement. And people called Sam the smart one.

“Eurgh,” was his little brother’s only response, and Dean was heading out the window and onto the ledge. Cas and Dean weren’t _kissing_. If their hands sometimes touched when they lied down on their roofs to watch the sky, nobody but them had to know.

Tonight, Dean only gets to twenty mississippis before he hears Sam’s snoring. Grabbing his backpack, he tiptoes past the nightstand to window, sliding the screen over with eased practice. 

When Dad first lost his job and they had to move from the big house in the suburbs to a rickety little townhouse closer to the city, Dean was not impressed. The entire structure looked like it might tip over at any second, and the next house in line looked just as bad. Plus Dean had to climb up four flights of stairs because another family live below them. The neighbours were loud and every night, Dean was woken up by this weird hissing sound outside his window that he was convinced was some sort of monster. 

So Dean decided he was leaving. He tried to talk his brother into coming, but Sam liked his new school. It had _dance team_. After a week of the mysterious hissing and weird tilted floors, Dean packed up his bag with a peanut butter jar and a kitchen knife, and was climbing out his window at three in the morning. Anything was better than this stupid place.

It was late September at the time and Dean didn’t account for the rain that had earlier that night, however. As soon as he stepped foot on the slanted ledge outside his window, Dean lost his balance. He doesn’t remember much, tries to forget the way his heart felt like it was pounding in his throat and how he instantly regretted leaving his stupid old townhouse because it had Mom and Dad and Sammy inside of it. What he does remember, though, is the grip on his arm when a little boy grabbed him where their roofs nearly touched and stopped him from falling onto the pavement four stories below. And he definitely remembers the big blue eyes that looked down at him in concern when he was rolled over and patted down for injuries.

That was almost a year ago now. Dean has some pretty good ideas of what to get Castiel on September 18th, but for now, he just snuck some of Mom’s cookies from the kitchen after dinner. Cas’ family doesn’t believe in eating sweets, so Dean always promises to bring him something good when he can. Cas says he already _does_ bring that. He says Dean’s his something good. But Cas is kinda weird like that so Dean just shrugs and brings cookies anyway.

When Dean climbs out of the window, he checks the roof for slipperiness first, like always, and, once he has safely assessed the situation, goes to sit all the way at the edge.

Most nights, Cas is already waiting. He says his parents make him go to bed really early and don’t bother checking on him after that. Dean says he’s lucky, but Castiel doesn’t seem to agree. Regardless, Dean got to be here first tonight, so he sets up the cookies on a piece of cardboard from one of the boxes they used when they were moving. A year later and there were still so many boxes lying around. Dean is never moving again. Unless maybe Castiel moves away. The thought makes Dean frown, but it’s soon forgotten when he hears the slide of a window from across the gap.

“Hello Dean,” Cas says in the little voice he uses at the beginning. Dean likes that voice. It’s like Cas is just warming up to talking to him still. Dean likes it even better once Cas is all warmed up and talking nonstop about the discovery channel or his latin lessons or Cindy, the little blonde baby who lives below him.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, looking up from his “plate” of cookies. “Brought you somethin’!”

Castiel grins, and Dean can’t help but smile back when his chest does that weird thing it does when Cas is around. 

“My mom made them. They’re butterscotch!” Dean says proudly as Castiel reaches over to take one off the plate. Dean watches for his reaction as he bites into the treat.

Cas is always the best person to watch. Sam says he’s like a robot because he talks funny and walks pretty stiff, but Dean has never seen a robot with eyes as big as Cas’. And Cas is way too funny to be a robot. He pays attention to everything Dean does like he’s the most important person in the world right then. But it’s not just Dean. Cas pays attention to everything he does, like he doesn’t do anything for nothing. So even when he’s biting into clandestine cookies, he takes it seriously; closing his eyes like seeing might distract him from tasting them.

Cas is never boring.

“These are delicious, Dean. Thank you.”

And even though Sam thinks Cas is a genius, Dean knows he just talks funny because his family is weird and he has too many tutors. Cas doesn’t go to normal school, but he never makes Dean feel stupid just because he gets detention and doesn’t listen in class. Besides, Dean isn’t stupid. If teachers were as interesting as Cas when he talks about jellyfish, Dean would be getting straight A’s just like Sammy. Maybe the teachers are the robots.

Cas takes a blanket out of his backpack. It’s old and grey and kind of scratchy, but Dean likes it because it smells like Cas’ house. Dean has only been in there once, when Cas’ parents invited them over for dinner to welcome them to the neighbourhood. Dean didn’t like it very much because he had to sit at a separate table that they kept calling the kid’s table.

Still, the blanket is the same one Cas brings on the cooler nights, so Dean isn’t mad about it.

They get comfortable, blanket spread over the small gap, and lie down on their respective sides, staring up at the night sky.

“So, Cas, what was your favourite part about today?” Dean asks.

It’s kind of a bit. When they first met, Dean had been so happy to be alive that he blurted out that Cas was his favourite part about his day. The next time they met on their roofs, it had been awkward. Castiel was quiet and unsure, until Dean asked him what his favourite part about the day was. Castiel had blushed, mumbled something, and stared up at Dean with wide eyes, scared. Dean had shrugged and told him all about how he had convinced Sam that garden hoses were made out of real snakes.

“I mean, besides me, of course!” Dean adds now, a tired joke that makes both of them smile anyway.

“Oh, well, in _that_ case…” Castiel replies, and Dean gets the thing in his chest again because Cas is never sarcastic, and Dean likes to think Cas got that from him.

“I told my father I wanted to go to school,” Cas says quietly, suddenly serious. Dean bites his lip. Wow. Cas doesn’t like standing up to his family. Mostly because they’re really mean.

“Wow, Cas. What did he say?” Dean asks, breathless. Cas in public school. That’s a funny thought. It makes Dean’s heart beat faster for some reason, thinking of Cas in his school with his friends. He can’t tell if it’s a good faster or a bad faster though.

“He got angry,” Cas says, and it sounds so sad that Dean automatically moves his hand so that it brushes up against his. Cas grabs it, squeezes. Dean fights the urge to pull away. His heart is thudding in his ears and he feels a little like when he was falling again. 

“It’s okay to be scared, Cas,” Dean whispers, squeezing his hand back. Cas makes a little noise at the back of his throat and Dean squeezes impossibly harder, one quick burst, like maybe Cas can know that he doesn’t always have to be strong. Dean can be strong for him too. 

“I told him though,” Cas says, and his voice is dangerously wobbly. “I told him what you said about… about socializing. And how i-it’s not my fault I’m weird, that socializing is part of education too…”

A wave of guilt washes over Dean as he remembers explaining to Cas how Sam thought he was a science experiment or something. 

“Aw, Cas, no way! I didn’t mean that. You’re perfect,” Dean says quickly. He blushes. “You’re great just the way you are, buddy.”

“I know. I know, but you’re right. And I thought that maybe I could convince Father with logic, with education,” Cas says, his voice breaking a little. Dean turns over onto his side, his free hand coming up to touch Cas’ face. He hesitates halfway, hovering, then settles for resting his hand between them.

“He… said yes,” Castiel says, having missed Dean’s awkward gesture because he was looking down. He looks up at Dean then, and Dean can see tear tracks on his cheeks. “Father said I could start in September. That I could try “socializing”.”

“What!?” Dean exclaims, probably too loud for a nighttime rooftop tryst. 

Castiel’s face breaks into an uncertain smile, his eyes still large and bright with unshed tears.

“Cas! That’s amazing! Where are you going to school? Are we gonna be in the same class? Cas, I gotta tell you all about Mr. Singer, he is the best worst teacher you’ll ever have… Cas it’s gonna be so great! I’ll show you all the fun stuff at school and all the cool hang outs. I’ll even make Sammy show you the library--”

“Dean, you visit the library every week!” Cas interjects. Dean waves his hand.

“Whatever, I’ll make Sam show you the nerdy sections while I check out the comics,” Dean chatters. “Who cares? Cas, we’ll see each other _every day_!”

Dean can’t fight the grin splitting his face and it seems to be contagious because Cas is turning over onto his side too, beaming at Dean.

“Father didn’t say what school I would be going to yet,” Cas warns, but his smile is ruining his serious tone.

“So? There are only two schools here and Saint-Louis gets out at the same time as ours anyway so even if we can’t spend the day together we can walk home from the bus stop and I can show you the rocks beside the bridge. In September the frogs are all smashed against the roads it’s so gross…”

“Dean,” Cas says, smile fond. He brings a hand up to touch Dean’s shoulder and Dean stops babbling immediately. “Are you sure you want to hang out with the weird robot kid?”

Cas probably meant to make it a joke but it falls flat, especially when Dean can only think of Cas’ hand on his shoulder in the exact spot he gripped it when Dean fell. Dean stares at Cas solemnly, letting the excitement drain from his eyes so that Cas knows this is for real. Sometimes, you gotta be serious with Cas or he doesn’t get it.

“I would be honored to hang out with the weird robot kid,” Dean says, because he heard it on TV once and it sounded fancy. Cas smiles a little wider. “Are you sure you wanna hang out with a loser who gets detention all the time?”

“No, thank you, but I would love to hang out with you,” Cas replies, serious as ever. Dean feels his cheeks go hot all over again, still staring at Cas.

Then Cas looks down at Dean’s lips, and back up at Dean’s eyes. Dean’s seen that before, he knows what comes next in the movies. In movies, it’s always a boy and a girl and there’s always some dumb classical music that plays in the background and they both lean in and open their mouths and it kind of looks gross. 

But Dean is curious. And he likes the way his heart beats faster when Cas’ eyes dart back to Dean’s mouth again. And he likes the way their hands are warm together even though it’s cold outside. And Cas’ hand that was on his shoulder has fallen down to his waist and that feels pretty good too. So good that Dean scoots a little closer, so that he can try putting his hand on Cas’ waist too.  
Cas inhales sharply when he does that, and Dean likes that too.

And suddenly Dean looks up at Cas, and he’s _right there_. He’s biting his lip and if stops it’ll probably touch Dean’s because they are _so_ close and Dean’s heart is a freaking jackhammer and it feels like he can’t catch his breath. Kissing is supposed to be gross, right? So Dean definitely won’t like it. Probably.

He closes his eyes and leans in, still frowning in concentration.

Cas gasps, his hand tightening in Dean’s. 

It’s… wet. Dean’s not sure if he is supposed to like this or not, but Cas’ mouth is very wet and then there are the tears that are making the rest of him kind of damp too. Come to think of it, Dean’s hand is kind of sweaty from all the nerves and it’s just trapped underneath them. Maybe Dean should open his eyes. 

Cas pulls away first, just for a second, then he kisses Dean again, softly, on Dean’s puckered lips. Dean opens his eyes then, to see Castiel is already staring at him, eyes wide.

“Oh,” Cas says softly. He brings the hand clamped to Dean’s waist up to touch his own lips. 

Dean is pretty stunned too. This isn’t how he thought the evening would go, and he’s not sure if he likes it. He likes Cas. He likes coming onto the roof and telling Cas about stuff he can’t tell other people. Like how his mom let him try on nail polish and he liked it so much he tried to do it himself on the weekend so no one at school would know about it. Or how he complains about helping Sam with his homework, but really he likes taking caring of his family. He loves telling Cas all those things because Cas doesn’t even think it’s weird. He doesn’t laugh or call Dean a girl, he just lies there and holds Dean’s hand or smiles at him or shares his snacks.

“Huh,” Dean says eloquently. 

Cas’ eyes widen further. He looks positively terrified.

“Hey, Cas, whoa, buddy, what’s wrong? Did I… Was it… bad?” Dean asks, alarmed. 

Cas frowns.

“No… Was it… bad... for you?” Cas asks slowly.

Dean thinks about it for a moment. The whole mashing-mouths-together thing wasn’t all that great to begin with, no, but then when Cas had just kissed his lips, so soft and quick… Dean’s pulse quickened a little at the thought of it.

“No. Definitely not bad,” Dean says, nodding decisively.

“Should we do it again?” Cas asks softly. Dean considers.  
“Maybe not tonight,” Dean replies. He lets go of Cas’ hand for a moment. Cas inhales a little fast and Dean notices his face has fallen. “Sorry, just. Hold on a sec’.”

He wipes his hand on his pyjama pants, quickly grabbing Castiel’s hand again.

“Guess I was a little nervous or something,” Dean mutters, chucking weakly.

Cas beams again, letting go of Dean’s hand and wiping his own on his shirt. 

“It’s okay,” he replies delicately. “Me too.”

They stare at each other for a moment longer, both smiling a little goofily. Then Dean thinks of how he _actually_ thought tonight would go.

“Cas!” he exclaims. Cas jumps a little, startled. “You have _got_ to see the new game I got. My dad found it at a garage sale but it’s practically new and the monsters look so _cool_ when they blow up!” 

Dean scoots up so he can reach into his backpack with one hand. His face falls when he realizes he forgot the game inside. 

“Shit,” he says. Castiel opens his mouth, probably to protest Dean’s language. “I forgot it inside.” Dean finishes, before he can. 

Castiel looks up at Dean’s large gabled window. Dean looks up at it too. Dean's gaze shifts to their joined hands, briefly, and back up at Castiel, who is staring at him shyly. 

“Maybe tomorrow night,” Dean says, settling back into place on Cas’ blanket.

“Okay,” Cas says.

They turn back to the night sky, smiling.

*


End file.
